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Michael Partenza was not as a rule, a cynic. This did not alter the fact that even as he ate the customary pre launch breakfast of steak and eggs, he was mightily suspicious of this mission. He was the mission commander for the flight code named Apollo 18. That would have been fine, if it were not for the fact that he did not know what the true mission was. That information was classified. The man who held the orders was the secretly trained and rather shifty mission specialist, Vernest Torgeson. His command module pilot was Ronald E. Evans. Evan's last and only previous flight was on Apollo 17 Evans was the only man Partenza felt he could trust, and he would remain in lunar orbit while Partenza was on the surface of the Moon with Torgeson. Officially, Apollo 18 was going to the Moon to conduct site surveys and feasibility photos for a supposed moon base. Partenza found the idea of Congress agreeing to fund a Moon base in the current political climate to be absurd. It cost hundreds of thousands of dollars just to send one man into space and keep him there for a week. Food, water, air, protection from the vacuum, everything had to be brought with him and sending three men did not triple the expense, it squared it. In the face of that, the idea of sending a minimum of five to ten people to the moon and keeping them alive and working there for weeks or months or even years on end was a sick joke. All the same, that was NASA's story and they were sticking to it. Unsurprisingly, no one seemed to buy it. The U.S.S.R. accused the U.S. of planning to weaponize the moon, but they did not appear to be ready to raise a serious stink about it. That gave them something in common with Washington, the inability to swallow their own B.S. The three astronauts sat in the hermetically sealed germ free clean room as the preparation team buckled and snapped and clipped them each into the environment suits for the mission. Partenza endured Evan's crusty old joke about looking for moon maidens and Torgeson showed every sign of not having a sense of humor of witch to speak. The three men, now fully encased in their environment suits and breathing the oxygen in the hand cases, they carried. They walked with Partenza in front, Torgeson in the center and Evans on tail end Charlie watching Torgeson. Neither Evans nor Partenza trusted Torgeson and they wanted to make sure he did not show the faithfulness of a scorpion. For 80 percent of the mission someone would be able to watch Torgeson to police his behavior 24/7. The dicey part would be the surface mission. Partenza would be up there alone with this snake. This mission was highly controversial. For one, it had previously been canceled. For another, the recession plagued U.S. Government could ill afford a trip to the Moon right now in the eyes of many Americans. The country that was champing at the bit to go to the moon had gone there six times and now seemed to be bored with the idea. That was why this mission had been canceled. Why was it back on and why two full years after the end officially of the Apollo program? As the prep teams belted the three star voyagers into their launch couches Commander Partenza let his fore mind do all of the tasks to hand while the back of his mind worried at all his questions. The biggest question for Partenza was himself, a combat aviator in the Navy that previously had served in the skies over Vietnam. Over 10,000 hours in enemy airspace and 27 confirmed kills against North Vietnam. Why was HE the mission commander when he had never been in space before? Evans craned his head to look over at Partenza in the side seat and asked him concerned, "You OK over there, skipper?" Partenza answered in a confident tone, "100 percent, Ron, ready to go, you OK?" "You bet, Boss-man., how 'bout you 'Torgie' are you ready to walk on the Moon?" Vernest Torgeson looked at Evans and told him, "You don't have to worry about me, worry about yourself." The two astronauts looked at each other with a mutual understanding glance as the launch preparations finished Gene Krantz at Mission Control in Houston chimed in, "Apollo 18 flight controllers, Listen up. Gimme a go/no go, for launch......Boosters" "GO" "Retro" "GO" "Vital" "Go flight" "Guidance" "Guidance, go" "Surgeon" "Go, flight" "E/CON" "We're go, flight" "G/N/C" "WE'RE go", "TEL/M/U" "We are Go" "Control" "Go, flight" "Procedures" "GO, flight" "IN/CO" "GO" "F/A/O" "We're go, flight" "Network" "Go, flight" "Recovery" " GO" "Cap/com" "WE'RE GO, flight" "Launch control, this is Houston we are go for Launch" The countdown had never stopped since starting seven days ago. Now, it reached the magic number. It reached the number about witch all the comic books and T.V. shows and Yahoos cared. Ten, the liquid oxygen and hydrogen finished pumping into the super cooled fuel tanks Nine, power switched to full internal batteries and systems. Eight, The flight computers confirmed command of the Command/Service module. Seven, the auxiliary systems confirmed that an accident such as occurred aboard the service module of Apollo 13 would not happen on this flight to the oxygen systems of the Command/service Module Frontier. The Lunar Excursion Module Pathfinder also checked out all green.. Six, the life support systems gave another green light. Five Four Three, the main engines started cranking up. Two, the fuel pumped to the engines. One, The engines poured out thousands of pounds of thrust, and slowly almost teasingly, the massive Saturn V launch vehicle lifted off the pad at Cape Kennedy. This was the Apollo program's 12th mission and the seventh mission to land on the Moon. Their destination was Mare Procellarum, the sea of storms. It was not really an ocean. It was a large expanse of lunar landscape the appearance of which in the night sky on Earth was thought to herald storms on Earth, according to ancient superstition. Apollo 12 had already been here, which made the alleged cover story look even flimsier. After all, people would ask, if they wanted to scout for a Moon base site, why did they not just have Astronauts Pete Conrad and Alan Bean do that during Apollo 12? Michael Partenza was shocked at how the launch felt. The increasing gravity pushed him into his launch couch and almost squeezed the breath from his body. This was not like the Centrifuge at Johnson Space Center. This was different, and better and worse. Finally, after long seconds, that terrible weight slacked and then disappeared. Partenza went from far too much weight to no weight at all, and that was even stranger. The first stage fell away at the edge of space; the second stage pushed them into high earth orbit and then, having exhausted it's fuel shut down and fell away. Ron Evans initiated the third stage on Houston's go-ahead and the ship catapulted into trans lunar space. When it did and the three men removed their launch pressurized over suits, Michael Partenza turned to Vernest Torgeson and told him almost confrontationally, "OK, Vernest, now that we're up here, I think you need to tell us what our real mission is." Mission Specialist Torgeson looked at Commander Partenza and asked poe faced, "What do you mean, Commander?" "I mean we're not looking for any Moon base site, only an idiot would have bought that bullshit." Ron Evans chimed in as he bracketed Torgeson on that man's other side, "Fess, up, Torgie, we know you're a C.I.A. spook they trained at a black bag site someplace." "I don't know what you men are talking about." Ron then told him, "No one at Johnson knows you, no one at the Cape knows you, matter of fact I would bet even money no one anywhere in the Astronaut program has ever served with you." Commander Partenza then told him, "See, that's the funny thing about us happy Star voyagers. We're a pretty tight bunch. Most of us have served in the military, and all of us train together. But not you, Bunkie. You trained all by yourself for this. Just you and your little spook friends." Ron asked again, "And how about Pardo here, he was a combat pilot in 'Nam and he was shot down. He spent four days dodging bad guys and he doesn't have any space hours, just training hours, why is a guy like him the Commander on this flight, No offense, Pardo." "None taken, Ron." The voice of Eugene Cernan came clearly over the radio, "Frontier, this is Houston, do you copy, over?" Commander Partenza queued his vox and answered, "Frontier copies, Houston, what's up Gene, Over?" "Mike, we just need to check status up there and confirmed systems and flight path, everything OK up there, Buddy?" Partenza and Evans both went down their flight checklists and reported a perfectly functioning ship and a straight course to the destination body. Torgeson stayed silent, as he had nothing to report, then Eugene Cernan asked, "Mission Specialist, I need you to give me a status on the mission package, can you do that for me, Hoss?, Over" Eugene Cernan was CAP/COM or Capsule Communicator for Apollo 18 and as such was the only man at Johnson space center allowed to speak with the astronauts aboard the spacecraft. He was a fellow astronaut, having flown on Apollo 10 as the Command module pilot and on Apollo 17 as the mission commander and so would be able to speak with them in their own language and understand any situation as it unfolded. Mission specialist Vernest Torgeson keyed his vox and responded, "Mission package and CSM sensor bundle reads as green, Houston, over" ""Copy that, Mission Specialist, over" Partenza then asked, "Houston did you want us to get set for our broadcast? Over" "That's a negatory, Mike, no network broadcast this time, it's just the four of us, this trip, over" "Roger that, Houston, over" Both Partenza and Evans were giving Torgeson a death glare that would peel paint at that revelation. Partenza then told Torgeson, "When we get to the landing site, you and I are going to be all alone down there. The lunar surface can be a dangerous place if you are not careful, anything could happen down there. Do you understand me?" Torgeson was shocked, "Are you threatening me, Commander Partenza?" "No, Mission Specialist Torgeson, I am not threatening you. I am just enumerating the various possible dangers inherent to our hazardous, but heroic endeavor." The other man said nothing, but it was obvious he got the message. The two astronauts did not like him and did not trust him, not just for his secrecy, but also due to his not belonging to their little spaceflight fraternity. Vernest Torgeson did not care. The President's national security advisor, Henry Kissinger briefed him personally, and the information that he had about the reason for this mission far outweighed any petty worries these two Captain Kirk Want-to-be's might have. As the Third Stage reached the effective halfway point between the Earth and the moon it came time to eject the third stage of the Saturn V rocket and conduct the maneuvering to retrieve the Lunar Excursion Module 'Pathfinder' from its holding space. The CSM Frontier would conduct the complex turning, maneuvering and docking operation under the experienced hand of Pilot Ronald Evans. In old pulp science fiction what was most often depicted would be a missile like craft that, as it approached the moon, would simply turn itself on its own axis and land using its tail exhaust to brake. Regrettably, in 1974 and for that matter any year previous, that simply was not going to happen. The technology did not exist. That said, NASA still needed to be able to put Michael Partenza and Vernest Torgeson on the surface of the moon in such a way as to let them survive to do their jobs and then safely return. The answer was the stopgap system of two essentially disposable ships, The Command/Service Module and the Lunar Excursion Module. Pilot Ron Evans disengaged the CSM from the third stage, opening the four piece cone wide. Then he used the maneuvering thrusters to first move the CSM away from it, then turn the CSM so that the nosecone was facing the LEM. At that point, he used the same thrusters to carefully and slowly move the CSM toward the LEM docking and locking the two units in a precision move that had to be exact. Luckily, Ron Evans had done this before as the pilot of Apollo 17. Evans watched the locking indicator for the sign that the on board computer of the CSM and the onboard computer of the LEM were connected and communicating, the so called "Barber pole" When he docked and locked, the instrument went from white to striped black and white and Ron Evans told Commander Partenza, "Talkback is 'barber pole', we have contact" Then Pilot Evans again activated the maneuvering thrusters to pull the LEM from the third stage and turn the composite vehicle to return to its proper course toward the moon. Fortunately, the moon's gravity was now strong enough at this distance to assist them and pull their joint ship toward it. Commander Partenza then opened the centerline hatches of both ships making them effectively one ship. For the next three days, Mission Specialist Vernest Torgeson was a passenger. He had no duties aboard Frontier or Pathfinder save maintaining and checking on the fitness of 'the mission package' At one point, Torgeson was sleeping in a zero G pouch in Frontier and Partenza and Evans took the chance to have a two-man conference in Pathfinder Evans opened with, "I do NOT like this, Pardo, not one little bit, that little slime is up to no good, I can smell it, but that's not all that bugs me." "I think I get you, but what else is it, Ronnie?" "Pardo, there are twelve men who have walked on the moon, and all twelve of those men are heroes in every sense of the word. You are, too, Pardo you DESERVE to be one of the fourteen men that have walked on the moon. I am glad as hell that this mission is public so that everyone can KNOW of your heroism." "I appreciate that, Ronnie, but please continue." Torgeson is a scumbag. You know it, I know it, hell EVERYBODY who talks to the little shit for more than five seconds knows it. And his name is going to be a part of the same conversation that includes names like Neil Armstrong, Edwin Aldrin, Pete Conrad, Al Bean, --" Partenza stopped him short of a full recitation and said, "I get it, Ronnie; you don't need to do the full list." "I'm saying, you deserve to be in that list, he doesn't." "Actually, Ronnie, I hate to break it to you, but you're wrong. As much as I agree with the sentiment, if he makes it to the Moon then he DOES deserve it." "Pardo, have you flipped, what the hell are you talking about?" "If anything goes wrong up here, or down there, he is just as screwed as either of us, Ronnie." Partenza saw it sink in for Evans then. If the ship malfunctioned or suffered a meteor strike or the landing went bad or if any one of 100 things went wrong, Vernest Torgeson would be just as dead as either of them would be. It did not matter why he was here now, only that he was here. Vernest Torgeson simply would never have been allowed to climb into CSM Frontier if he did not have 'the Right Stuff'. He was not a passenger or a burden; he was an astronaut, just the same as them. Evans looked back toward, the entrance to the tunnel connecting the LEM to the CSM and said with a tone of reconciliation in his voice, "Yeah, you know, Pardo, I was so busy not trusting the little stooge I never thought of it like that." "Listen, Ronnie, I'm not asking you to take long showers with him till the wee hours of the morning, I'm just asking you to respect the man. He's here and this is his ass hanging out in the vacuum too." "Yeah, Pardo, I guess you're right. So where do we stand on our little trust issue, with him." "That's something else. I think I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I'll tell you something, Vernest Torgeson isn't being some mustache twisting villain, he knows something, but somebody with a lot higher pay grade than him told him to shut his ass. He is scared, I can tell, whatever they told him or showed him or whatever it is has him shaking in his shoes." "I wondered about that. Yeah, he is scared of something. OK, I'm with you, let's go ahead, and cut him a break, there's no reason for the two of us to be dicks when he's already got enough to think about." Vernest Torgeson noticed the change in their treatment of him immediately. They were warmer and included him in on the good-natured joking common to the astronaut corps. In addition, they evinced a marked decrease in suspicion and increase in trust, up to and including leaving him alone in the Command Module for extended periods while they completed the checklist to power up the lunar module when the C/SM/LEM completed the lunar orbital insertion. CAP/COM Eugene Cernan told them, :"Pathfinder, you are go for Lunar touchdown, over." Commander Partenza responded on the chin mike of his lunar surface environment suit's headset, "Roger that, Houston we are commencing LEM separation and Lunar descent for Mare Procellarum touchdown, over." Vernest Torgeson watched as Commander Partenza carefully maneuvered the Lunar Excursion Module Pathfinder over the designated landing site in the Sea of Storms. The Doppler radar system made a precise landing possible and eliminated a great deal of guesswork. Because of that system, Partenza no longer had to depend on the seat of his pants and or the Mark one eyeball. Regardless, he used all three and touched the LEM down less than two feet away from the exact center of the proposed landing co ordinates. Partenza said over the LEM communications system to Johnson space center, "Houston, Procellarum base reporting, Pathfinder is on station." Eugene Cernan responded in his usual game folksy manner, "Roger that, Pathfinder, we confirm you are zero/zero and stable. Pathfinder you are go for E.V.A. one." Commander Partenza checked the seals and fittings of Mission specialist Torgeson's EVA suit and Torgeson did the same for Partenza's suit. As per training, both men were firm believers in the 'for want of a nail' axiom. Partenza unlatched and opened the main ingress/egress hatch of the LEM Pathfinder to reveal the stark grey and white landscape of the surface of Earth's natural satellite. The black seemingly starless sky made that surface seem even more alien and forbidding. Commander Michael Partenza exited the LEM feet first. His motions were slow and deliberate due to the lunar gravity and the airless vacuum. Partenza made his way to the foot of the ladder and, at the last step jumped to the lunar surface. He said over his suit vox, "Houston, Another man is on the Moon." Partenza moved to the side and step/bounded a few feet away from the LEM as Torgeson joined him on the lunar surface. Torgeson moved to the left side of the LEM and opened a panel there. When that was done, he removed the packaged lunar rover. Once he had done so, he removed the mission specific payload. It included two GAUSE rifles and two GAUSE pistols that would fire bundled flechette rounds. These special rounds would compensate for the 1/6th gravity of the moon as well as the vacuum of space. Torgeson then turned to Partenza and told him, "Commander, now that we are on the surface and in the prescribed area of operations, you have the operational need to know what I am about to tell you." "Go ahead, Mission specialist, I am listening." The two men were speaking on private vox as Ron Evans did not have the clearance to hear what Torgeson was about to say. "Commander Partenza. During the explorations of this Mare during the Apollo 12 lunar mission, clear evidence was discovered of a presence, an artificial presence, and possible sub lunar constructions by an intelligence originating from a location not of terrestrial origin." Partenza's response was succinct and to the point. "Holy shit." "Indeed, sir, may I continue?" "By all means." As the two men spoke, they were not static. They set up seismic measuring devices, spectrographic equipment, solar chromatic detecting hardware and solar power cells to power the LEM during their three-day mission on the moon. The solar power cells would also help power the photosynthetic oxygen system to provide breathable air for the LEM and their suits. When they had both done that, they assembled the Lunar Rover. Mission specialist Torgeson continued to speak. "Subsequent missions to the Fra Mauro Highlands, the Mare Humorum, the Mare Imbrium, and the Taurus Littrow crater revealed the nature of the possible sub Lunar caverns to be quite extensive." "So, what you're saying, Mission Specialist is that someone is here from outside of our solar system and is using our moon as their base camp possibly with hostile intent." "Last year analysts at Langley became convinced of that, and were able to successfully convince the National Security advisor of such, yes sir." "Jesus H. Christ!" "Yes, sir that was my reaction as well when I was first told." "How many people know about this, Specialist? "There are a total of thirty humans who know this sir, including the ten Apollo surface excursion astronauts after Apollo 11, The President, his National Security advisor, the analysts at Langley and yourself and myself." "What are our mission objectives, Mission specialist?" "Sir, our objectives are threat assessment, scouting, information gathering and if possible contact." I see, Well we have already completed E.V.A. 01, so we'd better get back in the LEM and get something to eat and some sleep, We'll have enough to do tomorrow. Commander Partenza and Mission specialist Torgeson climbed back into the Lunar Excursion Module and removed their environment suits. This left them in the white flight clothes that resembled a trouser and jacket and shirt combo on Earth. Partenza sat down in one corner of the LEM and commenced to eat his warmed over cake of beef and potato and looked at Vernest Torgeson as he ate his brick of turkey and stuffing pieces. "So, let me get this straight, Torgie, Aliens, real aliens have been visiting Earth, and they've been at it for how long?" We don't know, but the first definitive evidence we gained came when we shot down a strange craft near Roswell, New Mexico in 1947." "Wait, we shot it down?" "Yes, a Test flight Comet jet armed with two line of sight missiles sighted it and, not recognizing the design, opened up on it. He was not reprimanded because his instincts proved correct and it was a hostile craft violating our national and as it turned out planetary sovereignty." "Shit, they must have crapped themselves when we started launching shit into space." We don't know, Commander, the crew of that corvette craft died on the way to Fort Sandia, they never said a word. For years, we thought their ship was launched from a mother ship that was until Apollo 12. Now we find it likely to the point of certainty that they have a base here, on the Moon, probably in this very sector." "Great and I'm supposed to sleep tonight?" "Try to, Commander; you'll need your energy tomorrow." Michael Partenza enjoyed an at best fitful sleep mistaking every noise for an intruder as he lay on the pull out hammock stretched between two walls of the LEM. Torgeson slept on the hammock below him and perpendicular to his. He tossed and turned as well, unable to enjoy a truly deep sleep. Partenza was actually relieved at that. The man was human and was frankly just as concerned, just as jittery as Partenza despite his pretense to self-assurance. Early the next lunar morning, after breakfasting of baked egg-and- sausage cakes and warmed up coffee in a tube, Partenza and Torgeson left the LEM to reconnoiter the Mare Procellarum landing site of Apollo 12. Partenza sat in the passenger seat of the lunar rover and told Torgeson, "We had better get on the stick, Mission specialist." The two men traveled via the lunar roving vehicle to the site of the Apollo 12 landing, and discovered the various scientific instruments set up by Pete Conrad and Allan Bean had been tampered with, and in some cases completely wrecked. The descent stage of the LEM itself had also been tampered with and in some cases, panels left open after someone rummaged through them. Mission specialist Torgeson dismounted from the Lunar Rover and examined the wrecked equipment. Commander Partenza stood watch with his specially designed GAUSE rifle at the ready in case whoever did this returned. Mission Specialist Torgeson then told Partenza, "Commander, we need to return to our landing site, right now!" The sense of urgency in his voice caused Partenza to move as fast as he could in the low gravity and drive the two of them back to Pathfinder's site. When they arrived, they saw three small grey beings in seemingly featureless suits advancing on the lander and its instruments. Commander Partenza snapped off a single shot and caught one of them squarely in the back. The targeted creature fell and the other two ran away. Partenza ordered Torgeson, "Get out and stand guard here, get in touch with Houston and tell them everything, that's an order, specialist." "What about those two?" "Leave them to me, I got these mother fuckers!" Partenza's speed was hampered by the low gravity, but the two fleeing figures in their featureless grey sack suits could move no faster than a lunar run, what, on Earth would be an ambling walk. Partenza shot the figure closest to him and then subdued the third. He was unprepared when the figure twisted in his grasp and presented a strange device in its left hand. The figure pressed the device to Partenza's faceplate and his suit was wracked with paralyzing electrical energy that caused him to lose consciousness. Partenza awoke to the sensation of his body being dragged along some kind of long hallway. Trailing after him were the various components of his EVA suit. Partenza was still groggy from that bioelectric shock and could not move, or even exert himself very much. The two creatures dragged him into a large room hollowed out of the lunar rock and moved his body onto a large table with a humanoid shaped shallow basin in it. Then they used some sort of surgical instrument to cut his thermal suit off him. Partenza tried to speak but could only croak out, "Who, What, are you, Why are you,...doing this?" They covered him head to toe with something that looked and felt like the skin of a massive chicken and it clung to him. Then once again, Michael Partenza lost consciousness. Michael awoke in a small storage room. It turned out to be the same room his environment suit had been tossed into. He felt wrong, misshapen off balance and terribly sore, but he knew he had to get out of here. Michael Partenza pulled the components of his EVA suit on over his now nude body. His mind was on the verge of total breakdown as he tried to ignore the strangeness, the wrongness, the impossibleness of his new form. Michael Partenza knew that without his thermal under suit to regulate his temperature on the lunar surface, things would get hot for him very quickly, but if he could get back to the Rover and then the LEM fast enough that would not be too great a problem. Michael Partenza followed one of the short bulbous headed grey creatures back to the sub lunar entrance of their lair, and once it was opened, dashed out as quickly as he could. Once he was back in the harsh lunar sunlight, he saw his rover, just where he left it. Already feeling hot and tired, he mounted the driver's seat. He drove as fast as the rover would move following his own tread marks back to the landing sight of the Apollo 18 LEM. When he arrived, Torgeson told him over the radio, "Sir, what happened are you alright, where did you go?" Partenza motioned that while he could hear, he could not respond, and motioned for Torgeson to let them both into the Pathfinder. Partenza felt hot and tired and his body was drenched in sweat. If he stayed out here, he was literally going to cook. Torgeson helped him get into the LEM and then closed the hatch and pressurized the crew cabin. Torgeson went to unlatch Partenza's helmet and Partenza waved him off with a 'no' hand gesture. Torgeson was undeterred as he told Partenza, "Sir, if we don't get you out of there and medicated you're going to die." Partenza motioned in Amslan, the American Sign Language, (They hurt me, they did something to me, I do not feel right, I feel wrong.) "Sir, it's alright, Langley suspected something like this might happen, we need to get you home." Torgeson cracked the seal and lifted the helmet off, revealing a woman in her early twenties with a naval Aviator's crew cut and a face and neck covered in her own sweat. Torgeson briefed CAP/COM on what had happened and Eugene Cernan ordered him to sedate the woman and prepare for departure from the lunar surface and docking with the CSM. Once again, Torgeson showed unexpected depths as he showed he knew how to fly the upper stage of the LEM Pathfinder. Partenza lolled into oblivion under the heavy sedation and did not awaken again until he was in a sleep pouch aboard the CSM Frontier. Torgeson entered the CSM and saw Partenza was awake. He uttered the understatement of the year when he said, "You probably have questions, Commander." Commander Partenza's hands and arms twitched in the reflexive urge to strangle the life, out of mission specialist Torgeson, and he told the man, "Here's my first one, do you have any last requests." Commander Michael Partenza was unnerved to say the least at the disturbingly feminine contralto coming from his own throat and mouth. He listened to Torgeson speak in the effort to not go insane at the manifest strangeness of everything happening to him. "I understand your hostility, this must be quite traumatic for you to go through, don't worry, you will be well compensated and looked after, your country will not abandon you." Once again, a nearly murderous rage overtook Commander Partenza as he shook with undisguised fury at Torgeson's blas? statement, as if making him a government pensioner could somehow make what had happened to him all right. "What the hell can you possibly do, I am an Astronaut, I went to the Moon, I am a Naval Aviator I flew off Carriers, I have more enemy kills to my credit than any man I know and now all of it is going to become unevents?" "Are you familiar with the Mercury 13?" "Sure, they're those women that went through all the tests that the men did to prove women could be astronauts, why" "As you know, there was very little publicity connected to your launch. Very few people know you as Michael Partenza, and in the civilian Sphere it would be very easy to redact the record to list Michelle Partenza as America's first female astronaut." "Bullshit, nobody's going to swallow that, and you know it. Regardless I want to know, did you know THIS was going to happen, did you know about THEM, did you know THEY were going to do THIS?" "We have known about the Zeta Reticulans since shooting down one of their corvette crafts in New Mexico in 1947 as I told you before,. In the 1950s the frequency of their documented interventions caused us to believe we knew where there base was. In 1970 Apollo 12 found the most likely site for their base, and now we have certain proof." "Did you know they were going to rip my life away and turn me into a nutless freak?" "They have hardly done that, Commander, you are, to all appearances a biological woman, by no means a freak." "The only reason you're not a frozen corpse on the surface of the moon is that I was too weak to do anything, and the only reason you're not a floating icicle in Trans lunar space is that you have me bound in this wet pack. By the way, I can feel the Maximum absorbency Garment covering my, my, ,my cunt. Torgeson told her, "Yes, that will have to be changed every ten hours. Luckily, your bowels were flushed before our mission and the food aboard ship is designed for a low residue output. You won't need a bowel movement hopefully until we land on Earth. Commander Partenza looked as if he was going to break down or be sick, but then he gained control of himself and finished, "One of these day's I'll get you for this, for all of this, you're going to pay, Torgeson, someday, the piper will be paid." "Commander, whether you realize it or not, your mission, our mission succeeded, not as much as we hoped, but enough to justify rewarding you rather than punishing you. You killed three of our new enemy, and thanks to the terrain following equipment on the rover, we know where they are. Very likely Apollo 19 and Apollo 20 will be tasked with destroying them, or at the very least dealing them a painful lesson." "Is there a reason you're keeping me nearly naked under this thing or are you just a sick fuck?" "We don't have any uniform articles aboard that would fit you, and as you know fit is essential in space wardrobe. In addition, the medical sensors had to be reapplied and must be maintained. As Apollo 18 made her way home, Partenza kept his hands clasped together to keep from having to feel his new anatomy under his own hands. It was bad enough feeling the fabric of the rest pouch against, breasts, thighs and other areas of his drastically changed body. Ron Evans would not look at him or speak to him, seeming to prefer to pretend he was not there. When the CSM Frontier achieved orbital insertion around Earth, Houston confirmed their permission to reenter the Earth's atmosphere and the Command module detached from the service module. By this time, Commander Partenza was belted into the couch on the port side of the capsule still in his restraint pouch and he was forced to ride out reentry in passive fearful frustration. Command module Frontier landed in the Pacific Ocean seven days after launching from Cape Kennedy. Frogmen from the USS Tarawa hooked the capsule to the US Navy Sea king helicopter and the three astronauts felt their ship lift out of the water. That Sea King Helicopter carried the Frontier to the USS Tarawa and placed it on a cleared deck Men in dark suits accepted the sealed metal cases of data and artifacts before allowing Pilot Ron Evans and Mission Specialist Vernest Torgeson to egress from the capsule. Once those two were on deck, the impersonal hands of the seemingly faceless men reached in and pulled Commander Partenza out of the Command module. They placed him in a metal basket stretcher and carried him below through cleared hatches and gangways to the ships sickbay. Commander Michael Partenza was then checked over from stem to stern. The ship's doctors certified him as a fit and healthy 22-year-old woman. With the limited medical technology available they also certified that this person was, or at least had been Commander Michael Partenza, United States Navy, aviator and Apollo astronaut. Vernest Torgeson's sworn affidavit to that effect sealed the deal in the eyes of the DoD and the U.S. Intelligence community. What Partenza overheard was to the effect that because he had proven that the enemy could be confronted and killed with the weapons humanity already had; Apollo 19 and Apollo 20 were green lit with the planning beginning for a program called 'Orion.' Michael Partenza spent the next week in quarantine telling various dark suited men and women everything he saw, everything he felt, everything he did while away from LEM Pathfinder and in the Aliens' custody. Because Michael had an IQ, of 140 and a photographic memory, that was quite a lot of information and his inquisitors congratulated him on his three confirmed kills against what they called 'The Exobiological threat.' Michael tried to tell them that he only got two of them, but they hand waved that away as unimportant. Michael was in the midst of once again recounting the tale of his escape when for no reason he could fathom his eyes began to blur and tears began flowing down his face. As this happened he felt an acute and overwhelming sense of loss and grief. The man he was speaking to look at him curiously and asked somewhat derisively, "Commander Partenza, what's wrong, what's the matter with you?" Partenza was as mystified as the dark man in the dark glasses; He did not know why he should suddenly start crying like this and experiencing this terrible sense of malaise and sadness. When Partenza returned to his rather Spartan quarters at the Cape, he washed the tear streaks from his face and looked at himself in the mirror. The U.S. Navy brush cut looked bizarrely out of place with the feminine features he was still incredulous at every time he saw them. Michael Partenza prided himself on his disciplined military nature and his attitude of never quitting In the face of adversity. That was why, in Vietnam even when the People's Army Air Force of Vietnam shot him down, he practiced Survive Escape Recon and Evade and returned to American lines with Intel on the location of several enemy SAM sites. It was why he threw himself into astronaut training when he was tapped for it, and it was why now, he stared at his own reflection and determinedly took mental and emotional inventory. (OK,) he though to himself (You're alive, you're relatively, able bodied, you have all your senses and you can, to all appearances run and jump and play with all the other girls and boys. So what are you whining about?) The sticking point with his apparently emotionally stunted id was the loss of his masculinity. To a Naval Aviator and an astronaut in late 20th century America that was a bigger blow than even he thought it would be. It explained the crying jag that even now made him feel ashamed of himself. Commander Michael Partenza, U.S. Navy took stock of his life. His parents died while he was a child, a drunk driver took their lives. He was raised by an emotionally distant aunt and uncle that he had never been close with. He was not married and had no children. He was never close with any woman he slept with and his only close friends were either Naval aviators or astronauts. In effective terms, there would be no one to seriously threaten NASA's cover story for this operation. Partenza hoped very much that the government would not drop him from the program. He needed to go back to the Moon and face these creatures down. The need within him to make them pay was almost biological. Partenza looked in the mirror at his own reflection and was shocked to see one of the three and one half foot tall Zeta Reticulans in the room behind him. He reacted by shouting in horror and spinning around to face it. When he looked around Partenza realized he was the only one in the room. It had been an illusion, just a phantom of his own mind. The next day, Michael Partenza received a visit from Dr. Hadley Stivic, Dr. of Psychological medicine. Partenza was wearing a standard set of light blue medical corps issue pajamas. As a concession to modesty, he wore a dark blue bathrobe over them. Michael Partenza had already examined his own drastically altered and indisputably female new anatomy, but he just could NOT think of himself as female. The idea of thinking of himself as a female, of accepting this as a fait accompli scared him silly, and even sickened him more than he could admit. The kind voiced, understanding faced uniformed woman sitting in the chair asked him a question. "How did you hurt your hand, Commander?" Michael chuckled softly and looked at the injured upper limb in question; it was taped and wrapped in an antiseptic gauze bandaged and medical tape. It looked a good deal worse than it was, and the injury bled a great deal before the Navy Hospital corpsman got Partenza to the sickbay and treated the injury. "Oh, yeah, I knocked a glass of water off the nightstand table and sliced my hand open, pretty stupid I know, but there it is, I really need to watch that stuff." The Navy Lieutenant seemed to accept that and she told Partenza, "Commander, I have been cleared to know the full details of your mission and what transpired on the moon, I must say that I find the details of it quite remarkable. Even though all of the data was made available to me, I still find it hard to credit. You must find all of this quite distressing; I am tasked with helping you deal with the mental and psychological stresses of your ordeal." "O.K., so what's the shavetail doing here?" "Ensign Kenner is here to observe our session and make notes; he's training to treat post traumatic stress cases and extreme cases of mental disorder in combat personnel." "Oh, That's nice. It's not true, but it's nice that you had that steaming pile of bullshit all ready to serve up." "Commander, Ensign Kenner really is training to deal with PTSD and extreme reentry problems." "Yeah, Nifty, keeno cool, but that's not why there are two of you and its' sure not why one of you is a big old countrified bohunk mother fucker that looks like he could juggle soda machines, Lieutenant." A harsh and distinct edge of furious anger now stiffed Partenza's voice as he continued, "Lying to a superior officer right to his face is a pretty crappy start to this little interview, don't you think, Lt.? "Commander Partenza, Lying to your therapist is a pretty bad start to a treatment session." "I haven't lied, Lt." "How did you hurt your hand, Commander?" "I. CUT. IT. ON. A. SHARD . OF. GLASS! And the reason there are two of you is in case I flip out and lose my shit, Jethro over there will deal with me." "That is correct, Commander." Commander Partenza stopped looking at Lt. Stivic and was now looking at part of the wall. Commander Partenza could see, as clear as day a grey alien. It had black eyes, a huge bulbous head a mouth that was a featureless lipless line and a naked grey body devoid of genitalia or other features. It seemed to step away from the wall and walk toward Commander Partenza. Its arms reached up as if to grab him and them Partenza realized that it was not there. The only people in the room were himself, Lt. Stivic and Ensign Kenner. Commander Michael Partenza also realized something else; He was now sitting in a puddle of his own urine and on the verge of going into cardiac arrest. Lt. Stivic saw his condition and shouted "Orderly!" Ensign Kenner was up and moving, lifting Partenza out of his chair and moving him over to the room's single bunk bed. Two Navy Hospital Corpsmen came into the room and matter of factly stripped Partenza and washed him down after his childish accident as Lt./Dr. Stivic checked him over and told Kenner, "She's on the verge of cardiac arrest and her blood pressure is on the roof, get an M.D. in here before she strokes out and we lose her." Ensign Kenner moved to do just that and a far away part of Partenza's mind tried to argue, (But I am a boy, not a girl, why did the head shrinker call me 'she' and 'her'?") When Partenza woke up from the biggest panic attack he could ever remember having, the Lt.'s question dogged at him. "How did you hurt your hand, Commander?" Early that morning Michael Partenza had been absently brushing his teeth and staring into the mirror in the bathroom. He had not really been thinking about anything in particular when, suddenly the attractive brown haired, blued eyed woman with the toothbrush sticking out of her mouth in the mirror struck him as the wrongest thing in the world. That was not him. He should have been looking at a mid thirties crew cutted navy man with a touch of five O' clock shadow on his face, not this sleepy eyed orally hygienic College aged fashion model. That was when his hand and arm made a fist seemingly of their own accord and started punching the mirror as hard as he could to make the albeit good looking short haired bull-dyke get the hell out of his mirror. The medical orderly stationed outside heard the crash and saw Partenza cradling his left hand as blood oozed from the lacerations in his skin. Commander Michael Partenza was in trouble. His mind was a man; his body was a woman, and the contradiction between the two showed signs of potentially being lethal. Added to that was Partenza's 'friend' the short grey skinned hallucination that for all he knew was not a hallucination, but might well be a projection of some kind on the part of the enemy under the Moon's surface. Later that night Partenza awakened fully from the heavy sedation the doctors placed him under. Partenza looked out of the window at the full Moon and realized that for him it would never again be an object of romance nor would it ever again be a thing of hope. Now for Michael Partenza and for thirty-five other people, the moon was an object of fear. Luna was the invasive outpost of an enemy that raided Earth with seeming impunity and used humans as experimental animals. Now the moon was a malevolent cyclopean eye hovering over the Earth. Michael Partenza remembered the opening narration of the H.G. Wells novel "The war of the Worlds". In his mind, he edited it slightly to fit the current situation as he saw it. Few people would have believed in the later years of the twentieth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency, men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon the planets, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast, cool, and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And late in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. These invaders came, not from another planet in the Solar system, but from another star, specifically the star of Zeta Reticuli. Their home star was untouchable by man's current level of technology, but their outpost on the moon was not. They breathed air, as humans did, they needed a pressurized and shielded atmosphere to live in, and again, just the way men did. They had to use environment suits to work on the lunar surface. Everything indicated that they were NOT all powerful. They could travel across the gulf of stars, but apparently only at great effort and expense, otherwise why erect an outpost on an airless worldlet like the Moon? What was more, they feared being caught, and they feared the implicit dangers of having a base on Earth. Analyzed objectively, their actions bespoke weakness and fear, not power and confidence. Zeta Reticuli was a binary star system 39 light years away from Earth. Even at the speed of light, that meant a nearly 80 year round trip at minimum. If they had faster than light engines, they were probably not very good comparatively speaking, otherwise, why not just come here directly, why build the base on the moon. Something did NOT add up. The next day, Michael Partenza was once again speaking to Dr. Stivic in a supervised therapy session. "Dr. I don't know what happened, but you have to certify me fit to fly, you have to let me in on Apollo 19, I am the only one who has ever been inside those sub lunar caverns. The stakes are just too high!" "Commander, I cannot and I will not. Do you even know what is happening inside your own head? Apparently, you are suffering from auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations, crippling gender identity disorder and a crushing inferiority complex. If I certify that mess of neurosis fit to fly they would have my neck and they'll have every right." As this discussion happened, Partenza was still dressed in pajamas a robe and slippers, the standard garb for a serviceperson under the care of the Bethesda Naval Hospital's psychiatric wing. "O.K., look, if you're not going to listen to me, then let me talk to Deke, or Gene, or Jim, or even that spook, Torgeson. I have to get SOMEONE to listen to me!" "What do they need to listen to, Commander?" "I think I know about the enemy, the Zeta Reticulans, I think I know what they're doing here, and what they're NOT doing here!" The infuriatingly calm timbre of Lt. Stivic's voice was really starting to grate on Commander Michael Partenza. The woman was talking to him as if he might lose it. She was treating him as if he was,... Crazy Both Ensign Kenner and Lt. Stivic were behaving in every way as if Commander Michael Partenza USN was insane. That meant that Commander Michael Partenza USN would not be trusted with a pair of scissors let alone the command of an Apollo mission. Several days later, Michael was staring out his window at the grounds of the hospital when the room's door opened and an orderly told him, "You have a visitor, Commander." Michael turned and saw Agent Torgeson standing there in a tan three- piece suit. He had a briefcase in his hand and seemed to have something to say. He opened with, "I am informed that you have something to tell us, Commander. What is it?" "I am the only man who has ever been inside the enemy's safehold and survived, that means you need me, out there helping you fight them, not in here making macram? plant holders, and you know it." "I see, so you still consider yourself to be a man. that is very interesting. Tell me, what is it do you suppose that entitles you to claim to be a man, Commander?" "Don't jerk me off, Agent Torgeson, I've flown more missions drunk more beer, kicked more ass and banged more quiff than a limp dicked pussy like you will ever see, of COURSE I'm still a man," then he tapped his temple for emphasis and continued," Up here, where it counts, where it always counted." "I see, Commander, and how long has it been since we returned from the Sea of Storms?" "About three weeks, why, what does that have to do with the price of weed in Quang Tri?" "And how do you feel, Commander?" "Oh what the hell is this, what do you mean 'how do I feel', I've been locked up in a laughing academy for the past three weeks, how do you think I feel? I feel like wringing your scrawny neck as if you were a chicken since you ask, why?" "Oh, you'll see, at any rate, what did you have to tell me, Commander?" "It's the Zeta Reticulans; I have thought about and analyzed their actions in light of my academy training and subsequent experience. I don't think they're invaders In the military sense of the word, in fact they act more like criminals than invaders. They behave as if they're afraid of some over riding authority figures, and I don't mean us. These guys act as if they're doing things they know are wrong, and are trying to keep them on the Q.T." "Commander, not to be a pest, but what about their actions, kidnappings, mutilations, experimentations, torture, if not acts of war, what are they doing here?" "We're not dealing with Adolph Hitler, Agent Torgeson; we're dealing with Josef Mengele." "How is that again, Commander?" "They are Scientists, highly unethical and unscrupulous scientists. They're here to use us for experimental animals and they know they're not supposed to, furthermore their manipulations have probably been accelerating since the beginning of the space age, tell me, Agent Torgeson, what's been happening on the tracked and documented abduction from since 1957?" "We've been tracking a drastic increase, almost exponential in scope. Abductions mutilations tortures, you name it, it runs the gamut. We've managed to stigmatize the stories to get them written off as cranks to allay public suspicion, but they're getting to the point that even some lay people are taking it seriously." "I see, well I think I know why?" Torgeson's tone became a bit derisive and condescending as he asked, "Could you be good enough to enlighten me, Commander?" "It's us, it's the space age, we started traveling beyond our atmosphere, and now they're panicking. For some reason agent Torgeson our traveling beyond the Earth means humans are or might be off limits as lab rats." "What are you saying, that there is some over riding governmental authority that they are somehow answerable to, and our traveling beyond our planet makes us something OTHER than lab animals in the eyes of that authority?" "I see its sinking through the third layer, good, you're getting it." "Commander, I will convey your theories to my superiors, thank you for being good enough to enlighten me. In the meantime, I think we can have you moved to more hospitable, less clinical surroundings. Something that will help you feel a little more human." The next day Agent Torgeson arrived with a naval orderly of Petty Officer's rank and a garment bag and flight bag. "Good morning Commander, it's moving day, I am sure you would like to get dressed, so Ill leave you and Petty officer Wilkes to get you dressed." "With what do I need her help? Petty officer Wilkes wordlessly hung the garment bag on the closet door and unzipped it revealing a set of female Navy dress whites with a pillbox cap and skirt. Partenza chuckled nervously and asked, "No, seriously where is the real uniform?" Petty officer Wilkes looked at Partenza, and told her, "Come on, Commander, with all due respect, we're both female, if you have something on you that I've never seen, I will pay you to show it to me." "Sure, I'll be glad to get dressed just as soon as you bring out my real uniform, not this sick dumb awful joke you're expecting me to put on, Petty officer Wilkes." Petty officer Jennifer Wilkes sighed heavily and set her shoulders in a determined, but kind manner. She then removed the uniform in question from the garment bag and laid it on the room's single bed. Once that was accomplished, she began pulling items out of the other bag. One brassier, color white One set of waist cut panties, color white One knee length slip, white One pair nylon hose, flesh tone Commander Michael Partenza grew more agitated and incensed at seeing each item and finally exclaimed, "I hope you're hungry, Petty Officer, because if you think I am going to dress in those things you'll end up eating them." What followed were a surprising showcase of Petty officer Wilkes expert but unexpected hand to hand grappling skills as well as an exposition of Commander Partenza's complete inability to handle himself in this new female body. After being unceremoniously reintroduced to his own bed, and then suplexed into one wall, Commander Partenza was removing his robe and pajama, having already been stripped of his dignity. When he stood there stark naked in front of the still dressed petty officer, he tried to cover his breasts and pubic mound. After a few seconds, Partenza picked up the pair of panties, only to have Wilkes take them out of his hands and tell him, "Shower, then shave, THEN we get you dressed. Partenza counterpointed, "I don't have to shave; I can't grow a beard anymore." Petty officer Wilkes just laughed in a most unsettling manner; this woman was having FAR too much fun with this. Commander Michael Partenza walked out of the front door of the Bethesda Naval hospital with the Petty officer and Agent Torgeson behind him. He found it a little difficult to get around on the medium height heels he was wearing. As per his training, he placed the women's navy uniform cover on his head as soon as they were outside and looked around for the car. It was in the parking lot fifty feet away. Commander Partenza walked as best he could in the mid level heels and hose and skirt to the car, but he was grateful when he could sit down and take his feet off the heels. He looked at Petty officer Wilkes and asked her as he rubbed his ankles, "Do I HAVE to wear these things with the class "A"s these shoes are brutal." The Petty officer smiled and answered, "Yes, Ma'am, you do, it's in the regulations, for all female personnel." "That's sir, to you, Petty officer." "No, Ma'am, it is not, you're a woman and an officer, so I and every other enlisted person in the Navy have to call you Ma'am, not sir." Agent Torgeson leaned over and handed Partenza an object. It was a black patent leather purse of conservative design. Partenza took it and asked, "What's this, some kind of sick joke?" "No, Commander that is your purse" Partenza smiled in a dangerously brittle manner and answered, "No, Agent Torgeson, it isn't, I have never seen that thing in my life." "Open it up and see inside." Partenza worked the metal snap clasp and the flap came open. Partenza then opened it wider and took out the large wallet/checkbook/billfold. He took out the billfold and inadvertently caused several other items to tumble onto the floor of the vehicle, among them were a compact, a tube of lipstick a small package of Kleenex, and several plastic wrapped tubes of an indeterminate nature. Partenza picked one up and looked at it, the plastic/cellophane wrapping was printed all over with the word 'Tampax' Commander Partenza dropped it exclaiming, "JESUS!" Petty officer Wilkes put all of the items back into the purse and placed the purse in Commander Partenza's lap. Commander Partenza looked down at the purse and suddenly was very conscious of the clothes he was wearing and the purse in his lap and the hygiene ordeal Petty Officer Wilkes made him go through. He looked straight ahead and did his best to present a stoic fa?ade but Wilkes could see unshed tears making his eyes shine. She was about to say something when Partenza told her, "No, Petty officer, you do NOT have permission to speak freely." His voice was heavy with the crying jag he was desperately trying to fight off. Inwardly, Michael Partenza wondered just what he was expected to do. He noticed that the female uniform tunic he now wore bore all of the badges and citations he had been entitled to wear, that he had frankly earned in the Navy. They had even provided him with his Annapolis ring despite the reality that women were not permitted at any of the nation's military academies. Combat ribbons on a woman, when women were not allowed in combat, an academy ring on a woman when women were not allowed at Annapolis. How did they intend to explain any of that? Torgeson explained thusly, "When the time is right, your situation will be explained as the work of unethical scientists behind the Iron Curtain using captured Nazi biotechnology." "Oh,...I see,...and just how did I supposedly get from the fucking moon to the Soviet Union?" "I and CMP Evans will testify under oath that we were intercepted by a Soviet Naval battle group and you were captured before the U.S. Navy could intervene. You were returned to us post transformation in a classified operation. It is expected that the Soviet Union will vociferously deny the cover story, and that denial will be blandly disbelieved." "That story would appeal to me if I liked Swiss cheese, Torgie." You'll see, Commander, You'll see." Torgeson finished with a suave and knowing expression. All this time, they had been travelling through the streets of the District of Columbia to a posh suburb of Georgetown. The car slowed down and pulled into a gated compound centered on a large brick and colonnaded mansion. It reminded Partenza of pictures of Mount Vernon or Monticello. The four door beige sedan stopped and the engine turned off. Commander Partenza exited the vehicle in a somewhat clumsy manner as he was unaccustomed to moving in a skirt. Partenza exited the vehicle and once again began the difficult task of walking in heels. It was tougher than most women made it look. Added to this, was the problem of the way he was walking. He walked feet instinctively apart as if he were still male. Doing that only seemed to make his problem with the heels worse. The others, Torgeson, Wilkes and, from a second car, Dr. Stivic followed him up the stairs. Partenza looked back at Stivic and asked, "What happened to 'Lurch'?" "He decided to stay at the Addams mansion." "That's humor; I recognize that, seriously, where's ensign Kenner?" "Working another case, we don't need him here anymore." At that moment, Partenza turned without thinking and placed his foot on the upper step without thinking, his foot came down wrong, and the distribution of mass at that precise moment caused him to fall sprawling to the ground at the feet of the others. Partenza was not braced for the fall and wound up with a cut lip a soiled uniform and a run in his stockings. When he picked himself up, Partenza took off his heels and threw them as far as he could away from himself and walked into the house once Torgeson opened the door. The shoes never made it further than the other side of the car, as Partenza's throw was overhand and badly coordinated in his frustration. One of the Agency men picked them up so they could be turned in to him later. Partenza padded into the large mansion in his stocking feet and looked around uncertainly as he tired to straighten his uniform and brush the smudges from it. Lt. Stivic walked up to him and put a hand on his left arm and asked, somewhat worried, "Commander, are you alright, it looked like you took a bad spill out there." Partenza turned his head and told the other officer, "Could you please clear the room, Lt.?" Stivic asked Torgeson, Kenner, and Wilkes to leave and give her and Partenza some privacy, Torgeson was reluctant, but after some urging from Ensign Kenner and Petty Officer Wilkes, he agreed to adjourn to another part of the house. Stivic then turned back to speak with Commander Partenza, "Commander, once again, are you alright?" "No, Lt. Stivic, I am NOT alright. In fact, Lt., I am very, VERY far from 'alright'. You see, my chief complaint seems to be that I have breasts, and a pussy and my dick is gone and I have become a weak, pathetic bawling candy-ass, and to make matters worse, I think I may be getting the periods." Lt. Stivic tried her best not to laugh and told Partenza, "I think you mean you're getting YOUR period, and what makes you say that?" "Because it's